


We Got Married In A Fever

by downjune



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Las Vegas Wedding, M/M, Morning Kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 01:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11567163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downjune/pseuds/downjune
Summary: The hangover was one part champagne, one part too much sun, and two parts a dinner of mini-fridge liquor, pretzels, doritos, and chocolate from the hotel vending machine. Sid felt like a raisin. Or a piece of salt-cured meat.





	We Got Married In A Fever

**Author's Note:**

> A Kiss prompt fic for Sleepy Morning Kiss! Also partially inspired by the Johnny and June Carter Cash song, "Jackson".

The hangover was one part champagne, one part too much sun, and two parts a dinner of mini-fridge liquor, pretzels, doritos, and chocolate from the hotel vending machine. Sid felt like a raisin. Or a piece of salt-cured meat.

Rolling from his stomach to his side, he found Flower sprawled over a leopard-print beanbag on the floor, dead to the world. He was entirely too tall for it but had managed to fit both his head and his ass at least. Sid twitched a smile, which was about all _he_ could manage. His entire face and head felt dried and shrunken in the over-airconditioned room.

A hand at his waist brought back the events of the night before, and he groaned, shifting over onto his back and stretching his legs. His feet met hairy shins, and he turned to see Claude in bed with him, still mostly asleep. On his left hand—the hand on Sid’s side—was a ring.

Darting a look at his own left hand, Sid found one to match between the first two knuckles on his ring finger. It was red plastic with white spots like dice, and Claude, laughing his ass off, hadn’t been able to jam it all the way on.

*

“Fuck, I can’t get it. Why are your fingers so fat?” He leaned his head on Sid’s shoulder, looking straight down as he tried to wriggle it over Sid’s knuckle.

“Why are yours so delicate? Ow, don’t! It’ll get stuck, and my finger will swell up.” Sid snatched his hand free and hid it in his armpit.

“Look,” Flower interrupted. “Do you want Elvis to finish marrying you or not?” He shoved his sharp elbow into Sid’s ribs. “Because I’ll do it, if you want.”

“You’re just the witness. It’s not official if you do it,” Claude said, snatching Sid’s hand back. He didn’t try to shove the ring further on this time, instead threading their fingers together and turning so they stood shoulder-to-shoulder facing Elvis, Sid’s left in his right.

“Yes, it is. I got ordained so I could marry my sister’s friend. I can marry you.”

“Does it count outside Canada?” Sid asked. “If it does, you should finish. Can Flower marry us? We came all this way to see him.” Turning to Elvis, he shrugged apologetically. “Do you mind? Sorry, you’re doing a great job, but Flower’s my best friend in the whole world, and he’s the goalie for your hockey team, so I think you should let him finish marrying us.”

Next to him, Claude started laughing again. “Jesus, you just think everybody will do what you want.”

“ _You_ don’t do everything I want.” Sid regarded him, dizzy with champagne from their impromptu engagement party and the wild joy that he was getting married three days before he turned 30. He was due back in Cole Harbor the day after tomorrow for the parade, but he was getting married first. He would go home a married man.

“Actually, you almost never do what I want,” he amended.

“You wanted me to do this,” Claude said, smirking at him.

“Yeah.” Sid grinned, leaning in before he could think what he was doing. “So did you.”

“Holy shit, don’t kiss him yet!” Flower yelled. “Haven’t you idiots been to a wedding before? Jesus Christ, okay, out of the way, Elvis. Excuse me, thank you.” With a huff, Flower took his place at what was supposed to be an altar, and their Elvis shot him a finger-gun and a hip thrust before moving out of the way. He seemed all right with it. There was another couple waiting behind them, and he shuffled over to chat them up with the same spiel they’d gotten.

“Okay, is there anything else you want to say?” Flower asked, straightening the collar of his t-shirt like it was something dressier. “You didn’t do any of your own vows, right?”

They hadn’t. This wasn’t exactly part of the plan when they’d booked a last-minute flight. Flower was having trouble pulling the trigger on which house he wanted to make an offer on, and he wanted their opinion on his choices.

They hadn’t come here to do this. “Shit, we’re getting married without our own vows. We should have our own vows, right?” Sid looked up at Claude. His eyes were very dark in the weird orange light of the Elvis church, his face shiny with sweat as the air conditioning labored in the window behind the altar. They were both cooked from the August sun, even though they’d been careful.

“What are you asking me?” Claude said quietly.

And Sid took a deep breath. He knew what Claude was asking _him._

“Should we do this now? Without our families or any of your friends? They’re gonna kill us.”

Claude wet his lips and rubbed a hand over his beard, failing to hide his quick, nervous smile. “We can wait if you’re worried about that. But I’ll marry you as many times as you want.”

A laugh caught and burst in Sid’s throat, and he swallowed around it. “Shit.” His heart thundered in his ears and the floor swayed just slightly, his blood fizzing and—yeah. “That’s better than anything I can come up with on the spot.”

He shot a quick look at Flower, embarrassed, but Flower’s eyes were wetter than his own.

“Okay, I’ll try, uh.” He dragged a hand through his hair and thought about starting the rest of his life with Claude after totally flubbing his vows.

No, fuck that. He couldn’t lose this one. Not here. They’d have a Catholic wedding later; then he wouldn’t have to worry about what to say.

He met Claude’s eyes again, and Claude cocked one eyebrow. “Okay, here goes. Uh. Part of me wishes I’d stopped hating you years sooner than I did. We could’ve had more time liking each other. But that time doesn’t feel wasted. You know exactly what I’m like, so I’ll never surprise you, for better or worse.”

“Such a romantic,” Claude murmured.

“I don’t like surprises, so no surprise parties, ever. You can have as many as you want, but I guess if you tell me you want one, it won’t be a surprise. Anyway.” He took another breath, briefly losing the thread of what he wanted to say. “You’ve got me. I really want to marry you. You’re it. That’s all, I guess.”

_Nailed it._

Claude smiled at him, and Sid almost wished for his missing tooth. He was too handsome with it fixed.

“Okay.” Flower wiped his eyes. “Shit, I don’t know this part in English. Par le pouvoir qui me revient, uh, by the province of Quebec, you’re married. Now you can kiss.”

*

Sid drifted back out of his doze at the touch of a bristly beard against his chin and dry lips against his own.

“Did the desert come into our room last night?” Claude grumbled, his voice rough as hell. But he kissed Sid again, slow and sleepy like he was still half-under.

Sid rolled the rest of the way to face him. “Feels like it.” Claude’s eyes were closed, his cheeks pink and freckled above his beard. Sid reached for the back of his head and drew him closer, but he was tired enough he could hardly grip Claude’s hair. He pressed his head to Claude’s, and the pressure radiated outward, easing the ache in his skull and making him shiver, it felt so good.

Between their bodies, Claude fumbled for Sid’s left hand trapped against the mattress. With a grunt, he got the plastic ring off, and when Sid reared back in protest, he slid it onto Sid’s pinky finger.

“There. Perfect.”

Sid looked down between them. “But it doesn’t go there.”

“Should we get some real ones?”

Claude said it staring down at Sid’s hand. Maybe he expected Sid to treat last night like a joke. Like when Sid had suggested they come out together last year, and Claude had thought he was serious and agreed. Sid didn’t think his sarcasm was that subtle. But Claude’s embarrassment was enough to break them up until the outdoor game in February.

“I think we’d better,” Sid finally said. “Taylor will love these, but Mom’ll flip.”

Claude’s mouth twisted in a crooked smile. “All right. You got these, so I’ll get the next ones.”

“Charlie and Harvey can be the ring bearers.”

“My nephew will need to walk them down on leashes; they’ll be assholes otherwise.”

“That’d be cute.”

Claude snorted, but didn’t respond, the sound of a beanbag squishing behind them ending the conversation for the moment.

“Fuck, that was not good for my back,” Flower groaned.

Claude kissed Sid again, a quick, firm press against his lips, then drew back and shoved himself up onto one elbow. “You know of a good breakfast joint around here yet?” he asked. “If I don’t eat something, it’s gonna get ugly.”

Rolling onto his back, Sid saw Flower rubbing the heels of both hands against his temples, and thought he was likely in a similar boat. Flower nodded. “Yeah. We can even walk there.”

“Good, because I think I’m still drunk.” Claude levered himself out of his bed, unselfconscious in his boxershorts and white t-shirt. Finding his sunglasses on the TV stand, he shoved them on his face and sighed in relief. Sid was nearly overcome. He flopped his arm over his face and tried to neither laugh nor cry at the ceiling.

The beanbag shifted again and a moment later Flower made a strange noise. “Did I make out with you last night?”

Sid lifted his arm at that. Claude stood slouched in front of Flower, arms crossed over his chest. Flower gestured at him, top to bottom. “This is feeling very familiar right now.”

Claude shrugged one shoulder. “It’s possible. You were kind of all over everybody last night.”

“God, who’s everybody?”

“Like, six different Elvises.”

Sid snorted a noisy laugh, and Flower’s gaze darted over Claude’s shoulder and back, quick as ever.

“You fucker,” he said, grinning wickedly. He hooked Claude by the back of the neck. “I’ll make out with you right now, and my breath is fucking horrible.”

With admirable speed given his condition, Claude ducked away from him and bolted for the bathroom, slamming and locking the door, though Flower didn’t chase after him. Instead, he flopped into bed with Sid.

“Sorry I made out with your husband,” he said, pillowing his head on his arms.

“No, you’re not,” Sid huffed. He almost asked Flower to say it again, just to hear _husband._

“I just had to make sure he was good enough for you,” Flower said, changing his story.

“And? What did you determine?”

“You’re going to marry him for real, aren’t you?”

The walls were paper-thin, so they both heard Claude take a truly epic piss, burp, and flush the toilet.

Sid smiled at the ceiling. “Yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr!](http://itstartledme.tumblr.com/)


End file.
